


Love Amidst the Northern Peaks

by Griselda_Gimpel



Series: Love and Sedition [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon - Manga, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Innuendo, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Racism, Rare Pairings, Romance, Sexual Humor, Slash, interplay of sex and violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-12-26 19:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18288941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griselda_Gimpel/pseuds/Griselda_Gimpel
Summary: After Major General Armstrong is recalled to Central, Miles and Buccaneer match wits with the new general sent to replace her. Set during the time-skip before the Promised Day.





	1. The New General

**Author's Note:**

> It came to my attention that the Buccaneer/Miles tag was in dire need of content. 
> 
> Additionally, I will be traveling this summer and am looking for recommendations for longer fan fics that I could read on the plane. If you have any you'd recommend, please drop them in the comments section. No Royed please.

                Major General Laurence Smarts eyed Mount Briggs ahead of him as the driver creeped the car slowly up the mountain. Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong had been recalled to Central, and Smarts had been sent to take her place. He fiddled with his coat. Even within the confines of the car, it was so cold. Central never got as cold as the mountains of the north.

                Smarts steeled himself. He would be the Master of Briggs. He didn’t know why Major General Armstrong had been given the position in the first place; Smarts was firmly of the opinion that it took a man to run a fort. A fort was like a woman, he reflected. It needed a firm hand to keep it in line. He’d grasp the peaks of the mountain and thrust his control forward until the fort submitted to him.

                In the car, Smarts frowned. There was something about the metaphor he’d just come up with in his head, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He let it go. He was sure it would come to him eventually.

                He arrived at the fort to find two men awaiting him. One of them looked like a bear in human form. The other – Smarts eyes him suspiciously – had brown skin and white hair. His eyes, however, were concealed behind snow goggles.

                The brown-skinned man held out a hand. “Welcome to Ft. Briggs, sir. I’m Major Miles, and this is Captain Buccaneer.”

                Smarts stared at the hand but didn’t take it. “Take off those goggles,” Smarts ordered. Major Miles did as instructed, and Smarts was surprised (but also not surprised) to see red eyes staring back at him. He turned his attention to Captain Buccaneer, which involved looking up rather.

                “I’d like to see you in my office.”

                “Yes, sir,” said Captain Buccaneer.

                Leaving Miles standing there without orders, Smarts led Buccaneer inside and then halted. “Which way to my office?”

                Captain Buccaneer saluted smartly. “I do not know, sir.”

                “What?”

                “I do not know the location of your office, sir!”

                “Who does?”

                “Major Miles, sir!”

                “Anyone else?”

                “No, sir!”

                Smarts backtracked to where Major Miles was still standing. “Sir?” Miles asked.

                “Please lead the captain and myself to my office.”

                “Yes, sir,” Miles said.

                Once they arrived, Smarts addressed Miles. “You’re dismissed. I would like to speak to Captain Buccaneer alone.”

                “Yes, sir,” Miles said with a smart salute. He began to walk away.

                Smarts went to open the door, only to find the door locked. He opened his mouth to ask Captain Buccaneer for the key, but he shut it immediately in favor of chasing after Major Miles, who was already halfway down the hall.

                “Sir?” Miles asked.

                “I need the key to my office.”

                “Yes, sir!” Miles said, and handed over the key.

                “You’re dismissed again,” Smarts said, “but…er…if I needed you for something, where would I find you?”

                “It’ll be in the shift schedule, sir!” Miles informed him promptly.

                “Excellent, soldier,” Smarts said and returned to the office. He led Buccaneer inside and shut the door behind him. He turned to face the taller man. “That man is Ishvalan, isn’t he?” he asked, a note of horror creeping into his voice.

                “Which man, sir?” Buccaneer asked.

                “Major Miles!” Smarts hissed.

                “I don’t know, sir!” Buccaneer responded.

                “Well, don’t you think he looks Ishvalan?”

                “I don’t know, sir! What does an Ishvalan look like, sir?”

                “Like Major Miles.”

                “Then Major Miles looks Ishvalan, sir!”

                “Who would know if Major Miles were Ishvalan?” Smarts asked.

                “Major Miles, sir!”

                “Anyone else, soldier?”

                “I don’t-”

                “Know,” Smart said, finishing Buccaneer’s sentence for him. He considered the matter. Brown skin plus white hair plus red eyes almost certainly equaled Ishvalan, and he’d been warned that Major General Armstrong was not trustworthy. Smarts sat down at his desk and tapped his fingers on the surface. “What do you think about Miles outranking you?” he asked finally.

                “It is a true fact, sir!” Buccaneer replied. Smarts’ ears were starting to ring. Buccaneer seemed convinced that he had to shout all of his answers.

                “Not anymore,” Smarts said. “I’m demoting Miles to First Lieutenant.”

                “Yes, sir!” Buccaneer said.

                Smarts drummed his fingers on his desk some more. He found it embarrassing to arrive at the fort to find an Ishvalan so highly ranked, but without proof of his ancestry, he did not know of a way to oust him. An idea came across Smarts’ mind. If Miles could be goaded into striking a superior officer, however, Smarts could have him court martialed.

                He smiled at Buccaneer. “I am promoting you to Major,” he said. “I want you to deliver the news of the rank changes to First Lieutenant Miles. When you do, I would like you to give it to him good and hard. Do you understand?”

                “No, sir!” Buccaneer answered thickly. Smarts sighed. He was convinced that Buccaneer didn’t just look like a bear – he had the intelligence of one, as well.

                “I want you to hurt him,” Smarts said. “But I don’t want you to leave any visible bruises on him. Is that clear?”

                “Yes, sir!” Buccaneer said. He continued to stand there.

                “Now, soldier,” Smarts said.

                With a smart salute, Buccaneer left and found Miles. Taking the other man by the arm, Buccaneer pulled Miles into a storage room and shut the door behind them.

                “So?” Miles asked, “What did Smarts want?”

                “I’ve been promoted to Major, you’ve been demoted to First Lieutenant, and I have instructions to give it to you good and hard.” Buccaneer paused, and a wide grinned broke out on his face. “But you know how I feel about topping.”

                Miles chuckled. They had been prepared for Major General Armstrong’s replacement. Smarts wasn’t going to know what hit him.

                “Well,” Miles said, “after that ordeal, I think I’ve earned a kiss, don’t you think?”

                “Agreed,” Buccaneer said. “I think you deserve lots of kissing.” Leaning down, he allowed his lips to meet those of his lover. Buccaneer closed his eyes and savored the kiss. The best part was that Smarts wouldn’t be expecting him back for some time.

               


	2. How it All Began

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is a flashback chapter, I tweaked it to have Miles and Buccaneer be lower ranks. I figured it made sense for them to have each gotten a promotion at some point during their time at Briggs.

                Miles and Buccaneer met for the first time two months after the Extermination Campaign had ended, and their meeting occurred when Miles was jumped by three soldiers who had been transferred from the East. With the Civil War ended, many eastern soldiers had to be reassigned, and some of them came to Fort Briggs. Three such soldiers were Lance Corporal Falk, Private Everhart, and Private Glass.

                There weren’t any taunts or words exchanged before the attack. One moment, Miles was walking one direction down the hall, and the three enlisted men were walking the other direction. The next moment, Everhart had grabbed one of Miles’ arms, Glass had grabbed the other, and Falk had pulled a large knife.

                The knife never made contact. A shadow rose behind Glass, and a bear in the shape of a man grabbed Falk’s shoulder and roared, “What do you think you’re doing?”

                Falk had lashed out with his knife, and the larger man’s right arm had come clean off. The larger man caught his right arm with his left and proceeded to bludgeon Falk with it. Falk dropped his knife. Everhart and Glass were shocked enough to loosen their grip on Miles’ arms, and he pulled himself free.

                He grabbed Everhart and Glass by their ears. The bear-looking man tossed his severed arm aside and scooped up Falk one handed, holding him upside down. Miles began heading toward Major General Armstrong’s office, the two privates in tow. The other man followed with Falk.

                “Captain Miles. First Lieutenant Buccaneer,” Major General Armstrong said when she saw them. “What is the meeting of this?”

                “I was attacked by these three men,” Captain Miles explained promptly. “First Lieutenant…Buccaneer was it? …came to my rescue.”

                “That is correct, sir!” First Lieutenant Buccaneer said. “The two privates restrained Captain Miles’ arms, and Lance Corporal Falk went for him with a knife, sir!”

                Major General Armstrong addressed Falk. “Is this true?”

                Falk did his best to sulk while upside down. “I don’t intend to save this country from Drachma only to be stabbed in the back by a damn Ishvalan!”

                “Oh?” Major General Armstrong said. “I thought you were the one doing the stabbing?”

                “Yeah, well, survival of the fittest, right?”

                “You are correct, Lance Corporal,” Major General Armstrong said. She addressed everyone. “Follow me.” As they walked, she nodded to two other soldiers – Murray and Roach – and had them follow, as well. She led the strange entourage to out on the top of the wall. The wind blew fiercely, and the cold was all around them. She nodded at First Lieutenant Buccaneer. “Remove Falk’s protective gear.”

                “What?” Falk shouted. “Are you crazy?”

                “Irrelevant,” Major General Armstrong said. “First Lieutenant Buccaneer?”

                “Yes, sir!” First Lieutenant Buccaneer said, and promptly began stripping Lance Corporal Falk down to his undergarments. Buccaneer moved a bit slow as he only had one hand to work with, but when Falk thought about struggling, Murray grabbed him, and Major General Armstrong drew her sword as a warning. Roach was standing by Miles, lest Everhart or Glass thought about trying anything.

                “You can’t do this,” Falk said, more than a note of pleading in his voice. “I’m going to freeze to death.”

                “Then I guess you weren’t the fittest,” Major General Armstrong said. As Falk rubbed himself in a futile attempt to stay warm, Major General Armstrong addressed Everhart and Glass. “Fort Briggs will not stand if the soldiers here cannot rely on each other and trust each other. Regardless of where you served in the past, you’re Briggs men now. That is what survival of the fittest means.”

                In the end, she didn’t actually let Falk freeze to death, but the frost bite he received was severe enough to prompt his discharge from the military. Everhart didn’t stay long at Briggs. He got himself transferred to Central as soon as he was able. Glass quit the military all together, resigning as soon as his commission was up. Nevertheless, they stayed at Briggs long enough for word of what happened to get around. There were no further attempts on Miles’ life. Soldiers who’d been in Ishval either became Briggs men or – as was more often the case – followed Everhart’s example and transferred elsewhere.

                After Major General Armstrong finally permitted Falk back into the warmth, she instructed Glass and Everhart to take him to the infirmary, and she dismissed Miles and Buccaneer.

                “See you around, Major,” Buccaneer said. “I need to go fetch my arm.”

                Miles finally had a moment to look at Buccaneer’s wound, and he suddenly realized why Buccaneer hadn’t reacted to the pain at all. His entire right arm was a prosthetic.

                The next day, Miles was eating lunch in the mess hall when he heard First Lieutenant Buccaneer ask, “May I sit?” Miles nodded, and Buccaneer sat at the table across from him. “How are you doing?” Buccaneer asked.

                “I’m fine,” Miles said. “The knife never touched me.”

                “But it’s not fair,” Buccaneer said.

                “Nothing new there,” Miles said tersely.

                “No,” Buccaneer said. “It’s not fair that I know your secret, but you do not know any of mine. Here, ask me anything.”

                “Okay,” Miles said. “How did you lose your arm?”

                “In Ishval,” Buccaneer said. Then, as Miles’ heart skipped a beat, he continued, “fighting the Silver Alchemist. Disagreed with Order #306, you know?”

                “What?”

                “Uh uh,” Buccaneer said. “Don’t go looking at me like that. I didn’t succeed in accomplishing anything but landing myself in the hospital holding cell for the rest of the Extermination Campaign.”

                “Yes, but…how are you still alive?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “You took a swing at a State Alchemist. That’s _sedition_.”

                “Oh, that,” Buccaneer said. He coughed and then continued in a matter-of-fact voice. “My grandmother’s maiden name was Armstrong. You know the same law doesn’t apply to the rich as to the poor in this country.”

                “Tell me about it,” Miles said. “So you and the Northern Wall of Briggs are related?”

                “Second-cousins,” Buccaneer confirmed. “We met once when we were younger. Don’t think that means she’ll treat me any different,” he added.

                “I wouldn’t,” Miles said. “She’s not like that.”

                “Now, now,” Buccaneer said. “That was two secrets for me. I get to ask you one.”

                “Go ahead.”

                “What made you join the military?” Buccaneer asked.

                “Oh, boy,” said Miles. He lowered his voice. “It was my parents’ idea, after they walked in on me kissing a young man. His name was Kyle. He lived down the street.”

                “Ouch,” Buccaneer said sympathetically. “Did they disown you?”

                “No, nothing like that,” Miles clarified quickly. “I’ve never doubted my parents’ love. But Kyle’s parents found out, and they were always huge gossips. Of course, they left Kyle’s involvement out of the retellings. My parents wanted me to have a fresh start. With my looks, well, they’ve always been so scared for me. So military enlistment it was.”

                “I understand” Buccaneer said. “As it would be, a young man was why I joined the military, too. His name was Bruce. He was a private, and he had the prettiest eyes.”

                “What happened?” Miles asked.

                “We weren’t compatible.”

                “He was only into the ladies?”

                “No. He wanted me to top.”

                “Top?”

                “You know,” Buccaneer said. “In the bedroom. I prefer the bottom bunk, if you know what I mean.”

                Miles did. He was also pretty sure that everyone else at the two closest tables did, as well. Buccaneer hadn’t lowered his voice at all.

                Miles eyed him thoughtfully. “That shouldn’t be a problem. And since we’re sharing, I like women, as well as men.”

                “You have a type?” Buccaneer asked, “Of woman, I mean?” There was a slight smile on his face that Miles didn’t understand.

                “Strong and assertive,” Miles said. “I like a woman who knows what she wants out of life and isn’t afraid to get it.”

                “Oh, yes,” Buccaneer agreed, “I love being bossed about by a woman!”

                Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong entered the mess hall then, and Miles and Buccaneer both immediately stood up so they could snap off smart salutes. She dismissed them with a wave of her hand, so they sat back down and continued their conversation. As they did so, Miles suddenly realized the implication of his prior words. He suddenly understood the grin on Buccaneer’s face and knew that he had realized the implication, as well.

                Buccaneer gave Miles a sidelong glance. “Did you wish to ask me out on a date, Major?”

                “I do, Captain,” said Miles. “Would you care to have dinner with me in North City the next time we have leave at the same time?”

                “I would,” Buccaneer answered, the smile on his face growing larger.

                Before the next leave came, Major General Armstrong pulled Miles into her office. “I’ve reordered the org charts,” she said briskly, “so you won’t ever have Buccaneer as a direct subordinate.”

                “Sir?”

                “I won’t tolerate my officers dating someone under their command,” Major General Armstrong said crisply. “I’ll have professionalism at this fort.”

                “How did you know, sir?” Miles asked.

                Major General Armstrong rolled her eyes. “It’s Buccaneer, Miles. Half the fort knows at this point!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea of Miles having an overall positive experience at Ft. Briggs and that being why he still believes in Amestris and that hearts and minds can be changed and so forth. This is a very Watsonian fan fic.


	3. Victory on the Wall

                When Buccaneer reported back to Major General Smarts that had had given it to Miles good and hard, Smarts was dismayed to learn that Miles had restrained himself and not struck back. Smarts pursed his lips. He’d get a reaction out of Miles eventually. He just had to have Buccaneer persist.

                “I want you to pull Miles into a secluded location again today,” Smarts said the following day.

                “Yes, sir!” Buccaneer said.

                “I want you to try again to get him to hit you. Don’t hold back. I want you to be sweaty and out of breath by the time you’re finished with him, is that clear?”

                “Yes, sir!”

                Smarts encountered Buccaneer again an hour later. “Well, how did it go, Major?”

                “He did not strike me, sir,” Buccaneer replied. Smarts examined him. He was definitely sweaty. Smarts did not doubt that he’d been out of breath afterward, either. Buccaneer was a good solider, if a bit thick.

                “Did you get any reaction at all?” Smarts asked.

                “He moaned a bit, sir!” Buccaneer reported.

                “Moaning is good,” Smarts mused. “Well, you’ll just have to keep at it. Tomorrow, I want you to give him a good licking.”

                “With pleasure, sir!” Buccaneer said.

                However, although Smarts’ orders continued, Buccaneer was not able to get Miles to strike him. Smarts was not deterred, however. He knew that Miles would break in the end.

                “Beat him good,” he ordered Buccaneer one day.

                “Shove him up against a wall,” he suggested another.

                “Make him scream,” he ordered. “The trick is to get him off his guard. Get him off, and you’ll have no problem.”

                “Use your fists,” he instructed. “I want you to fist him.”

                “Give him a nice, hard pounding,” he ordered Buccaneer one day. A soldier walking by at that moment snickered. Smarts look at him confusion. “What’s your name, man?” he asked.

                “Murray, sir!” the soldier replied promptly, saluting.

                “Was there something funny about what I said?” Smarts asked.

                “No, sir,” Murray said. “I was just thinking about a joke that I heard. Sorry, sir!”

                “Be on your way, then,” Smarts ordered. He turned back to Buccaneer. “Now, as I was saying, I don’t want you to hold back any. Get right up on him.”

                Nevertheless, no matter what Smarts had Buccaneer try, Miles would not strike a superior officer. It was not the only part of life at Briggs that Smarts found challenging. Trying to fill Major General Armstrong’s shoes had given him a begrudging respect for the woman.

                His first morning after arriving, he was awoken at four by Buccaneer banging on the door. “What is it?” Smarts asked sleepily after he let Buccaneer in.

                “It is time for the day to begin, sir!” Buccaneer shouted.

                “Is it?” Smarts asked. He considered Buccaneer and found that the other man was already fully dressed. In one hand he held a bagel on a plate, and in the other hand he had a glass of water.

                “Yes, sir!” Buccaneer assured him. “We must now sing the words of our National Anthem! Would you lead, sir?”

                “Why don’t you do the honor?” Smarts suggested hastily. He only knew the chorus and a few of the more distinct words of the song – and that was when he was properly awake.

                “Yes, sir,” Buccaneer said, saluting. Then he began bellowing out the words without a single one being in tune. “GLORY TO OUR FATHERLAND, WHICH WE PROTECT. GLORY TO OUR PRESIDENT, WHO WE SERVE.”

                Smarts resisted the urge to cover his ears. When Buccaneer finally finished – and Smarts now considered the anthem to go on for entirely too long – he set the bagel down on the nightstand. This was followed by the glass of water.

                “What’s this?” Smarts asked.

                “Your breakfast, sir,” Buccaneer explained. “I brought it up for you.”

                “Thank you, Major,” Smarts said. “Er…this is what Major General Armstrong ate, I presume?”

                “Yes, sir!” Buccaneer replied, saluting.

                Smarts eyed the bagel and water doubtfully, but then he steeled himself. He could do this. That he had been promoted to Major General all the way from Colonel in one go proved that he was up for the job. Central Command was counting on him. Smarts quickly ate the bagel, drank the water, and stood up. “I’d like to tour the facility now, Major. Would you lead the way?”

                “You made the daily schedules already, sir?” Buccaneer asked.

                “The…uh…what?”

                “The daily schedules for all of the troops, sir,” Buccaneer pressed. “Major General Armstrong trusted this task to no one else, not even Miles.”

                “Of course,” Smarts said. He was not going to be shown up by his predecessor. Buccaneer led him from his quarters to his office, where Smarts fumbled through the desk drawers until he found the appropriate forms. Then he spent the next hour filling them out.

                After that, Buccaneer handed the schedules off to a subordinate and then led Smarts on a tour of Fort Briggs. It was a large, confusing building, and Smarts would have sworn they passed through the same room multiple times, but Buccaneer assured him that that was just the nature of Fort Briggs. Smarts figured it was probably just him being lightheaded from the meager breakfast he’d eaten. He’d hoped to compensate at lunch time, but when he brought the subject matter up, Buccaneer sternly informed him that Major General Armstrong had always been too busy to stop for frivolities such as lunch.

                Thankfully, Smarts was able to obtain normal sized portions for dinner, although to his dismay, he had only finished half of it when a soldier – Smarts caught his name as Liam Roach – pulled him away on a matter. It was late before Smarts was able to get to bed again, and to his dismay, Buccaneer woke him once more at four in the morning with only a bagel and a glass of water.

                So things continued for a month. Smarts was up too early, ate too little, and got to bed too late. In between was a whirlwind of activity as Smarts assumed all of the duties of running the fort. He had no idea how Major General Armstrong had managed to do it all, but he was not going to let the soldiers at the fort think of him as an inferior replacement.

                On the one month anniversary of his arrival, Smarts was in a bad mood as the day neared its end so decided that he would cheer himself up by watching Buccaneer’s assault on Miles. He asked around to see where they had gone and learned that Buccaneer had pulled Miles into a storage room on top of the wall.

                Smarts opened the door to the storage room and then stared in horror at the scene that greeted him. “Major Buccaneer,” he said, aghast. “I told you to choke Miles!”

                “I am, sir!” Buccaneer replied cheerfully.

                “That’s not how you choke a man!” Smarts screamed. The soldiers on duty on top of the wall began to move to where he was at, to see what the ruckus was.

                “Am I using the wrong hand, sir?” Buccaneer asked.

                “You’re supposed to use both hands!”

                “Like this, sir?”

                “Around his _neck_ , Buccaneer,” Smarts snapped. “Your hands go around his neck. Then you squeeze. Not…not…what you’re doing!”

                “I don’t think that would be very fun for Major Miles,” Buccaneer replied.

                “He’s not a major anymore!”

                “Yes, I am,” Miles said coolly. Gently brushing Buccaneer’s hands away, he zipped up his pants and redid his belt.

                “And I’m a Captain,” added Buccaneer proudly. “Major General Armstrong promoted me to that rank when I first came here.”

                “This is sedition!” Smarts said, taking a step back out onto the top of the wall. Miles and Buccaneer followed him. He looked around wildly, and his gaze fell on Liam Roach. “Roach! Arrest Buccaneer and Miles on charges of treason.”

                “No,” said Roach.

                “What?”

                “I can’t arrest Major Miles,” said Roach. “He’s in charge of Fort Briggs in Major General Armstrong’s absence.”

                Smarts looked for another soldier in the crowd gathering on the wall top that he knew. “Karley! I order you to shoot Liam Roach on charges of treason.”

                “Can’t do that,” said Karley.

                “But…but…” Smarts sputtered.

                Miles took a step toward him. “It’s like this. You can either do as you’re told, or I can have Roach throw you over the side of the wall.”

                “I’ll stop you myself!” Smarts said, but as he took a step forward, his head spun and he nearly lost his balance.

                “Sleep deprivation and inadequate diet catching up to you?” Buccaneer asked.

                “You couldn’t fight a kitten in your state,” Miles said. “It would be better for you if you cooperated.”

                “Kill me, and Central will just send another General!” Smarts warned.

                “Only if we reported you dead,” Miles said. “People don’t come to Briggs much, especially during this time of the year. It would be months before we had to report your untimely demise to Central.”

                Smarts looked imploringly at Roach. “You can’t throw me over the wall!”

                “Well, I might have to get Murray to help me,” Roach said, “but I think we could manage.”

                “But I’m the superior officer here!”

                “What’s so superior about you?” Miles asked coldly.

                Smarts gave up then. His shoulders slumped. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

                Miles nodded to Roach and Murray. “You two take Smarts to his office. Lock him in.” He addressed Smarts. “You’ll have food and water. You’ll sign the papers I tell you to sign. If I put you on the phone, you’ll say the things you’re told to say. Is that clear?”

                “Yes,” Smarts said, and then added, “sir.”

                Roach and Murray took Smarts away, and the rest of the soldiers returned to their duties. Miles and Buccaneer stayed on top of the wall. Miles leaned on the barrier that ran along the length of the top of the wall. Behind him, Buccaneer wrapped his arms around Miles waist and held him.

                “Think we can pull it off?” Buccaneer asked, and Miles knew that he speaking of the coup they were planning.

                Miles smiled. There was so much about Amestris that was awful, but his experiences at Briggs had convinced him that there was hope. “This country can change,” he told Buccaneer. “I believe we can prevail.”

                In the distance and off to the side, the sun was setting. They each had their own battle ahead of them, but in that moment of time, everything was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be a part two, a post-series story where Miles courts Amue Armstrong. However, it's looking to be twenty-something chapters, so it will probably be a bit before I can post it.


End file.
